The Broken Soul: Sloane & Maddie, Peril Awaits, #3

By Cheryl Bradshaw and Janet Fix

When the party of a lifetime becomes a party to the death, the lines become blurred. Friends become enemies. Drugs become weapons. And that's just the beginning ...

Retired medical examiner Maddie LaFoe is in New Orleans to celebrate Mardi Gras with her best friend and private investigator, Sloane Monroe. When Sloane leaves to get them fresh drinks, Maddie witnesses what appears to be a body being dumped in an alleyway.

Maddie darts through the street festivities to investigate ... only to become a victim herself.

Minutes later, Sloane returns. Maddie is nowhere in sight, and no one seems to know where she's gone.

This time the investigation is personal, and Sloane will stop at nothing to find her friend.

The Broken Soul is the latest installment in the spinoff mystery series, Sloane & Maddie: Peril Awaits. Dive in for some heart-stopping action, enthralling characters, and a party that gets crazier by the minute for your favorite dynamic duo. One-click and order your copy today!

Reader Reviews About This Series:

"I can't put them down, keep them coming." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"I love the Sloane stories." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"Cannot wait for the next in the series." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"What a great pair of characters to follow." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"I am definitely a new fan and can't wait to read more." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

"I am hooked." ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pixie Publishing
• Release date: Jun 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201703660

Cheryl Bradshaw

Born and raised in Southern California, Cheryl Bradshaw became interested in writing at a young age, but it was almost two decades before she put pen to paper. In 2009 Bradshaw wrote Black Diamond Death (Book One: Sloane Monroe series). Within six weeks it entered the top 100 in two different categories and remained in the top 100 for over a year. Since that time, Bradshaw has written three additional novels in the series, and is now hard at work on the fourth. In 2013, Bradshaw introduced a new pranormal thriller series: Addison Lockhart, the first book titled Grayson Manor Haunting. Bradshaw is the founder of IWU on Facebook, a writers group with over 1,800 members. In August 2012, Bradshaw was named one of Twitter's seven best authors to follow.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Asurge of energy pumped through the crowd, the sights and sounds a breathtaking blend of panache and togetherness amongst partygoers. A purple feather fluttered through the air, landing on a screaming, nearly bare-chested woman with a plethora of beads strung around her neck.

Maddie giggled and sucked in a lungful of Mardi Gras magic, a mix of sweat, booze, mayhem, and a touch of whacky tobacky—secondhand, of course. Looking for a spot to sit down and finding none, she leaned against the gate in front of an older, boutique-style hotel, waiting for Sloane to return with another round of Canal Street Daisy’s, a bourbon-based drink infused with orange and lemon. She downed what was left of her drink in hand, tossed the cup in a nearby trash can, and watched the party unfold as the night chill began to set in.

Visiting New Orleans during festival season was a dream come true, one more item checked off her bucket list. Ever since Sloane suggested they vacation during the festival at her NOLA condo, Maddie had been planning her outfit. Hair piled high in a mass of curls that shot out of the crown of her black derby hat—she’d removed the top. Venetian half mask, all black sequins and braided silk, a black silk flower affixed to the right side. Her dress was body-con Lycra in a shocking pink, her skin covered in glitter, and her black boots stopping just above the knee.

She felt like a true party queen.

Maddie pushed away from the gate and strolled farther down Napoleon Avenue, hoping to catch one of the Krewe of Nyx’s many offerings, festive items being thrown to a ravenous crowd as the floats rolled on by.

She craned her neck, searching the crowd for any sign of Sloane.

Where was she, anyway?

It had been thirty minutes since she’d trotted off to get their libations. Maddie was starting to think she should have gone with her. But Sloane had insisted Maddie stay. She didn’t want her to miss a thing.

There was a small break between floats, and Maddie stared across the street into a tight alleyway, seeing a man and woman engaged in … well, she wasn’t sure what. She squinted to get a better look, at first thinking they were drunk, leaning on each other for a moment’s reprieve. Maybe it was nothing at all.

Then again …

It didn’t seem like nothing at all.

It seemed odd, and her curious nature won out.

Maddie weaved her way across the street, dodging drinks and dancers and phone cameras held high. She stopped cold at the mouth of the alleyway. The woman she’d seen was outstretched on the filthy pavement. She wasn’t moving, and her limbs were splayed, face toward the sky, expressionless, mouth agape.

The man glanced over his shoulder, saw Maddie approaching. He sprinted in the opposite direction, leaving Maddie to reassess what had caught her eye about the pair in the first place. The picture became clearer. The man had been dragging the unconscious woman to this spot in the alley. By her feet, her arms all akimbo as they bounced along the bricks.

And now he was just leaving her there?

Not a chance.

Hey, wait, Maddie called to the man as she raced toward the woman. Stop! What is wrong with her? Can I help?

The man kept going, leaving Maddie with a decision—tend to the woman or sprint after the man?

No-brainer.

Woman first.

Maddie hunched down, assessing the woman who appeared to be in her early twenties. She was dressed in designer jeans and a sequined shirt, but her clothes were grimy, her curly brown hair unbrushed, wild.

No surprise since she’d been dragged across the filthy ground and who knew what else.

Maddie checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t there. As a retired medical examiner, she knew sometimes a person’s pulse could be so faint, it was almost undetectable.

Maddie reached down, shaking the woman, looking for other signs that would tell her something about her condition. She was cold—far colder than a normal person should be.

Maddie bolted from her kneeling position and headed straight for the man who’d just rounded the corner at the end of the alleyway. She’d expected him to be a lot farther away by now, but he wasn’t. It seemed he might have paused to see what Maddie would do after discovering the woman.

Lowlife.

Maddie took the corner in hot pursuit. Stop right now!

A streak of movement came from behind a dumpster, and she stopped, whirling around. A needle pierced her neck, and she felt her arms being locked behind her back. She screamed for help but was dragged farther down the alley. An old sedan of some sort was waiting, and she was shoved into the back.

Her fight was leaving her.

She whimpered Sloane’s name over and over again.

Why oh why hadn’t she just waited …

Maddie’s eyes rolled back, and her mind exited the party.

CHAPTER 2

Ipushed my way through the masses, feeling a bit claustrophobic as I juggled a Canal Street Daisy in each hand. I kept a keen eye out for any breaks in the crowd. The trek was a precarious one, the fancy drinks close to spilling—onto me, dancing partygoers, various breeds of dogs, and random people just trying to get from point A to point B. As I kept moving, I got knocked in the face with a bunch of swinging beads. Then I passed a man doing his business on the side of a building.

Nice.

Gotta love a good New Orleans party.

I kept moving until I made it to the place where I knew Maddie would be waiting, but when I got there, she was nowhere to be found. I searched the area, thinking she may have gotten caught up in the excitement and wandered away from the bleachers where we had been sitting.

If she had wandered off, she wouldn’t have gone far. She knew I’d worry. After several minutes and still no sign of her, I was doing just that.

I dialed her number.

Voicemail.

I left a message.

Then I sent a text: I’m here. Where are you?

I waited a few minutes and then I dialed again. Like the first time, her phone rang all the way through to voicemail. I hung up and sent another text: I’m going to drink both of these suckers if you don’t show your face pronto!

I grumbled, What the hell, Maddie? and opened the gate to the hotel, proceeding inside to check the bathrooms.

She wasn’t there either.

I walked back to the gate, leaned against the wall, and waited, taking sips here and there as I scanned the crowd. The longer I scanned, the more worried I became. Perhaps she’d changed locations after I’d taken so long to get the stupid drinks. But if she had, she would have called or texted … or something. She may have been absentminded at times, but she wouldn’t just vanish on me without some kind of communication.

I set the drinks on a nearby ledge, made sure they were somewhat stable, and rubbed my temples—hard. Having been to Mardi Gras festivities in the past, I would have been fine with skipping it this year, but it was Maddie’s longtime dream to partake in NOLA’s biggest party scene. Knowing it would make her happy, I’d decided to bite the bullet and play hostess to Maddie’s Mardi Gras dreams. After all, that was what friends did for each other: supported, encouraged, and made dreams come true.

But where the heck was the little kook?

As seconds turned to minutes, my anxiety began to flare, my overactive mind creating scenarios about where she’d gone and why. I dialed her number again and got the same result as my previous attempts. I left another voicemail and a text message.

Another fifteen minutes passed, and the pit in my stomach was starting to grow. Too jittery to stand there and do nothing, I decided to abandon my post and go block to block, searching the crowd until I found her. I dumped the drinks, pulled her photo up on my phone, and headed down St. Charles Avenue. Poking my head into every shop or restaurant along the way, I showed her photo around, asking anyone who’d talk to me if they’d seen her.

No one had.

Not a single person, which wasn’t surprising.

During the parade, it was easy to get lost in the crowd. I was appreciative—and even a bit surprised—that so many people showed an interest, tried to be helpful. But no one had the information I needed.

For lack of a better option, I went back to our bleachers, feeling alone and worried. I didn’t want to assume the worst, didn’t want to believe something was wrong. But it was … I was sure of it.

A young man I’d seen standing near Maddie and me during the parade strolled past. I remembered him because he’d stood out with his flawless complexion, smattering of freckles, and headful of reddish-brown curls. He was wearing earbuds and bobbing his head. He seemed to be tuned out of everything around him.

I pushed away from the wall and approached him, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. Excuse me.

He smiled, his whole face into it, and removed an earbud. Sup?

I’m looking for my friend.

He stifled a laugh and said, Wild night. Good luck wit dat.

You were standing next to us during the parade, not too long ago.

The expression on his face made it clear he’d never noticed me. But maybe he had noticed Maddie. I whipped out my phone and showed him a picture.

What about her? I asked. Have you seen her around? You know, the one with the hair—and I did this swirly thing around my head to indicate a hair explosion—coming out of the top hat. She was wearing hot pink…

He nodded. Yup, yup. I seen her, he said, pointing across the way. Ran over there.

How long ago?

Not long. Twenty, thirty minutes ago, I guess. I was curious about it, so I tried to keep an eye out.

Curious about what?

D’way she darted across the street like dat. Looked upset.

Where did she go after that?

He shrugged. Dunno. I watched her for a minute, and then the floats and stuff got in da way. Next time I looked, she’s gone.

He spoke with the Yat dialect that was so common to the area—a local. I found it charming and challenging to understand at the same time.

"Gone," I repeated, looking in the direction he was pointing.

Sure enough, no Maddie.

Yup. Gone, he said, scratching his cheek. But that gal she chased after, she’s still there.

"What gal?"

He gestured with a nod of his head.

My eyes shifted to the small space between two buildings across the road. It was dark. The first time I looked, I hadn’t noticed her. As I zeroed in, I spotted a heap on the filthy ground in the form of a person, and I gasped.

That gal.

You knew there was a woman lying in the alleyway, and you did nothing?

It’s Mardi Gras. It happens. Not my business.

"Not your business? You’re kidding me."

He shrugged, avoided eye contact, and said, Don’t know what to tell ya, lady. I gotta go.

He trotted off, and I shouted, Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you.

He said nothing and kept on walking.

I huffed a few curse words and then sprinted toward what may have been the last place Maddie was seen. I needed answers, and I had every intention of getting them.

CHAPTER 3

The woman hadn’t moved an inch since I’d first laid eyes on her.

As I stepped into the mouth of the alley, I shouted, "Hello? I’m